


Tensile Strength

by flinchflower



Series: Slash Me Twice [82]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hunting, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M, Recovery, Tessera, Threats of Discipline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2013-10-25
Packaged: 2017-12-30 11:49:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1018255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 82: Metal.  Recovery from the most recent encounter with the demon ensues.  Oh Boys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tensile Strength

**Author's Note:**

> Copyright notice: I hold the copyright for Mistress Tess & Tessera, original characters, and multiple storylines associated with her. Someday (hopefully sooner than later) you'll see her in a series of novels, I ask that at this time others refrain from use of the character or venue without express permission. She is allowed to play in fanfic, I just request that I know about it. Frankly, I hesitate to post any of the fics with her in them, it's always a struggle... but... here we are.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not for profit, simply a writing exercise. Herein lies Dean/Sam slash, in an AU timeline where John did not lose his life. John appears in parental context only. Follows in series from previous prompts, but stands alone if preferred.

The first thing John sees when he heads out of the bathroom, hair a little more wet than he’d normally leave it, is a warning look from Matty. He takes a deep breath, then gives the taller man one of the famous John Winchester grins, all apologetic and worried and charming at the same time. It probably helps that he’s half standing at attention, too. It wins a low laugh from Matty, and he beckons to John.

“Good thing you took your time,” he says, and it takes John a second to cope with the fact that he can’t tell which way the man meant it, whether Tess would have come down on him if he’d hurried, or if they needed a few minutes without him present. 

John feels ironically comforted by the strong arm that Matty wraps around his shoulders. He lets himself be steered into the bedroom, where he spots the chaise lounge that’s been installed beside the bed. Ah. Matty’s comment makes sense, now. They both know he won’t leave his boys, not until he’s sure they’re fine, and right now it seems like nothing will be fine again.

They’re sitting up enough to sip at heavy earthenware mugs, and he remembers something vaguely Tess said about tea, just before Matty wraps John’s hands around one, and steers him over to the lounge. Dean’s holding Sam, and Tess has hold of the mug that she’s coaxing Sam to drink out of periodically. She only has to give Dean a look, one that’s not even scolding or stern, to get him to drink out of the one he’s got in his free hand. 

The look transfers over to John, and he hastily swallows hot, sweet tea, gagging on the sugar. But he’s done this before, and he knows it’s better that way, hot and sweet, a buffer against the shock. He wouldn’t mind some whiskey, but he needs his wits about him now, needs to talk to Jim, needs to talk to Bobby, but afraid to contact either of them, knowing the Demon – god, the Demon’s loose again, and this is it, this is the final chapter, and he’s not sure that they’ll all live through it – if ANY of them will live through it, because if he loses either of them, he won’t live himself. They’re all he has left, his boys.

He swallows hard, buries his face in the mug, figuring no one will notice, watching Sammy’s pale face, and Dean’s, only a few shades healthier.

“Sammy.” Tess’ voice is soft, far softer than John’s would have been, where he would have spoken if he wasn’t busy reminding himself that soldiers cry after the battle is won. “Sammy, are you still hurting?”

“Yes’m,” comes the soft reply, and they can all see how the question makes him cuddle back into Dean more firmly, see how the kiss Dean drops on his head, under the guise of resting his forehead on Sam’s head, relaxes the boy.

“All right, my boy. You may lay down with your brother, now that the tea’s down. Missouri’s – no, little boy, don’t look like that. She’s coming to help, it’s clear to everyone this isn’t you shirking, boy. We’ll figure it out.”

“Made mistake,” he mumbles.

“Shhh, not now, child.”

“Didn’t push it away, reached for it so I could touch Dean,” he says wearily.

“Samuel. That’s enough chat out of you, little boy.”

“But-“

“Sick or not, I will put you over my knee, Samuel.”

“Yes’m.” And he turns inward, turning his face to Dean, the mirror of what he wants to be, and the strength for everything he is that he can’t hold on his own. Dad’s here too, and after a moment, he turns back, looking at his father, consumed by a silent want that’s never going to be fulfilled.

Except John Winchester is a far more perceptive man than either of his wayward sons have given him credit for. He sees the fleeting glance from under eyelids weighed down by the need for sleep, and slips out of his chair. Sam doesn’t move, but he watches, and John slides carefully onto the bed, aware of how much pain the boy is in, likely. He pinned Sam down one day out in the canyon, made him describe the experiences, and though he wasn’t happy, he sure as fuck was educated by the time the boy stopped speaking.

He doesn’t reach for the boy, not wanting to make him think he’s taking him away from Dean, remembers that they’re both still sensitive about that, and since John doesn’t like to talk about it, they don’t realize he’s resigned. He just slides up close and gentle, bringing his hip in contact with the boy’s side, and his off hand comes up to brush that damned long hair away from the dark green eyes, eyes that he can almost always read to figure out what’s going on, probably why the kid keeps it so long in the first place. Always with the personal space, this one.

“We got out of there, Sammy, we went quick and fast, caught sight of one and didn’t stop. And we’re here, and we’re safe. You rest now, baby. Dean needs some sleep too, and he’s not gonna give in until he’s sure you have, you know that. And much as I’d like, I can’t order him into napping.”

A faint smile sneaks across Sam’s face, and he blinks slower and slower, and just as John thinks tiredly that the kid’s down for the count, Sam’s hand slides bonelessly across to touch his father. _No, not sleeping, John, keep aware, don’t let yourself get shoddy on the recon now, dammit._ The last of his energy focuses onto the kid, lying in wait until unconsciousness steals the boy away, fast and silent. He leans forward, body heavy, and kisses them both, watching Dean fade into slumber as well. 

He turns then, knowing there’s not room on the bed – and wakes slightly, a jerk, as Matty slides an arm around him, practically lifts him over to the lounge. He can lay back, not entirely down, so he’ll wake when the boys do and he’s about to protest the thick blanket that Tess is lofting over him, but as it settles, he loses the fight. And this time, it’s maybe okay.

There’s silence for a long while in the plain bedroom, the timbre of the mood matches the navy of the bedding, the heavy walnut and metal of the bedstead. And then Matheiu turns to Tess. 

“My dear, you must be exhausted. Let me see you to sleep,” he says, and doesn’t take no for an answer, doesn’t let the strong woman pull away from her. He hasn’t been sure, but he knows now, she loves those boys, all three of them, and he loves her even more for it. Right now, they just need sleep –all of them, and when the morning brings Missouri Mosley and her escort, they’ll find out just what the tensile strength of a Winchester might be.

**Author's Note:**

> Soundtrack: Jason Manns - Without You


End file.
